


Defy Fate, Reanimate

by Mistheart101



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M, Necromancy, Original Character(s), Survivor Guilt, feel free to point out any other necessary tags, kind of self-harm but not quite, more like 'sometimes you need to bleed a little bit to activate a ritual'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistheart101/pseuds/Mistheart101
Summary: Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu dwelled on several things as he shakily drew and empowered the chalk circle that would hopefully keep a god from smiting him down for daring to summon them. He thought about the fact that his best friend was dead. And he thought about the chain of events that led him to this point.





	Defy Fate, Reanimate

**Author's Note:**

> So uh. This is my first fanfic, I think? This AU's been something I've worked for the past..... year or so. Whoops. Started with a friend going "Hey the song Massacre Anne could be a Kuzupeko AU" and now here we are! Title's derived from Rise Lazarus Rise by Rufus Rex. Speaking of which I have some songs I associate with the AU, feel free to ask about that. Yes the summary is a few lines from the start of the fic but I wasn't sure what else to do.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu dwelled on several things as he shakily drew and empowered the chalk circle that would hopefully keep a god from smiting him down for daring to summon them. He thought about the fact that his best friend was dead. And he thought about the chain of events that led him to this point.

 

* * *

 

In this particular world, sometimes people were born with the power to wield magic. What kind of magic it was, though, tended to vary, and was usually made clear during childhood. Some ended up as little arsonists, wreaking minor havoc in their towns. Others were adept at healing the scrapes and bruises acquired from playing too rough. It should be noted that anyone could learn to harness magic; some people were just born ready to use it. No school of magic was exempt from this.

Not even necromancy.

Yes, someone could be born with an innate skill in what most would consider dark or forbidden arts. In general, magic builds up if not used, and can act out in different ways. For a fledgling necromancer, this could mean dead animals suddenly resurrecting, or spirits being drawn to their home.

The problem here is that not everyone has a positive view of necromancers. It tends to be that in more populated areas, they’re viewed with disdain and fear. This is likely due to the fact that the ones with ill intentions will typically try and overrun large cities and towns with their hordes of undead, leading to the general belief that necromancers only cause harm.

Conversely, smaller settlements are generally less worried; evil necromancers don’t always think tactically about their attempted conquests, not seeing the point in taking over some backwater town where everyone knows each other. In fact, these more positive views cause resident necromancers to look into bright necromancy. They’re able to allow the living to commune with the dearly departed, usually for the sake of closure, as well as other services.

Fuyuhiko had the misfortune of being born in one of the largest cities in the land. Not only that, he was born the heir to a crime family. His parents and their associates could pay crooked guards to look the other way whenever they committed misdeeds (which were countless), but they felt it was entirely possible that the same guards would draw a line upon discovering that the heir was a necromancer. Hypocrites.

So by the time Fuyuhiko was approaching legal adulthood, his parents were trying to figure out a way to boot him out into the world while cutting off any and all ties. He caught on at some point before his birthday, started saving up money, some of it stolen from his parents. Wasn’t like they’d miss it, they were stupidly rich, and some of it was probably ill-gotten anyways.

Under the dark of night, he left home for good, heading out towards the countryside. The less likely people were to recognize him or react violently towards his necromancy, the better. One of the other downsides to being born into the Kuzuryuu family was that on the surface, they appeared to be just another noble family, so of course his parents dragged him along to whatever fancy parties they were invited to. Public image, and all that. So, the further he was from home, the less likely it was that someone would recognize him.

 

* * *

 

Leaving on foot hadn’t been the wisest decision, he could admit that. But the idea of stealing a horse or wagon just didn’t sit well with him. Yes, it would help if he could travel faster, but the likelihood of people connecting the stolen horse to his sudden disappearance was uncomfortably high. In this world, word could travel fast, aided by magic.

Between how reasonably well-dressed he was and the fact that he was traveling alone, a fair amount of bandits and robbers harassed him on his way. Of course, his particular magic discipline aided in dealing with them.

Not that he would disturb the rest of the dead solely to scare off bandits; a particularly niche branch of necromancy allowed the manipulation of shadows, provided the spellcaster bound some amount of their power to an object of their choosing. In Fuyuhiko’s case, it was a black ring he wore on the middle finger of his right hand.

Point being, anyone who bothered him very quickly _stopped_ bothering him upon realizing he could maul them with shadows.

It was still a pain to deal with, though. It was what led him to asking around the towns he stopped in to see if there were any bodyguards for hire. That was how he met Peko.

When he’d hired her, he’d made it clear right away that he was a necromancer. Misleading someone who was proficient in using a sword didn’t seem like a smart idea, after all. She hadn’t minded. He’d appreciated that.

They grew closer as they traveled, Fuyuhiko gradually revealing why he’d left home, what his family did for a living. It’d felt nice to actually tell someone instead of keeping everything bottled up.

It’d been about a year since he’d left home when they found a place to settle down for a while. Admittedly, it was a cave, but it was within walking distance of a village. Folks there explained that the cave wasn’t natural, that it’d been carved out by some expert user of earth-based magic years ago. It explained the smoothed walls, the offshoot passages that led to other rooms.

There was still furniture (dusty as hell, of course) sitting around, which made it easy enough to figure out which rooms were which; two bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom. Convenient, if nothing else. A writing desk and a couple of bookshelves were tucked in a corner of the main room while in the center of the room, there was a throne carved out of marble. Evidently, the creator had a high opinion of themselves. Not that their opinion meant much now.

A mix of favors and coin, the latter having been accumulated over the course of Fuyuhiko’s travels, led to both a positive reputation with the village and a fair amount of renovation work. The place felt more like a home by the time the work wrapped up, felt safer than any of the roadside inns he’d had to stay in, paranoid that someone would recognize him.

Things had been fine for a while, peaceful even. Sometimes folks showed up, thinking that the reported necromancer that lived within was some great evil. They usually got talked down and convinced to leave. But all good things have to end.

 

* * *

 

There were only a couple weeks between Fuyuhiko drawing the summoning circle and Peko getting killed.

He should've known this would happen, should've known things would break bad eventually. The long and short of it was people in the towns and villages he'd passed through had connected the dots between his name, his face, and the "mysteriously" missing Kuzuryuu heir back in his home city. Rumors did what rumors do best: spread.

Word reached his parents, and evidently they couldn't stomach the idea of people realizing this wandering necromancer was actually their son. Hence why they sent three fucking mercenaries after him.

Four people had showed up in his home, but he'd been able to tell the cleric wasn't really part of the group; poor kid looked too confused, too worried to have known what was going on, or why.

At some point in the argument that had broken between Fuyuhiko and the paladin who seemed to lead the group, he noticed that the group of four was suddenly three.

Later, he fucking regretted pointing it out.

Turned out, the rogue in the group had gone invisible, intent on knifing him while he was distracted. When their absence was noted, they took the closest opportunity they could.

They slit Peko's throat, letting her body fall as they faded back to their group. Fuyuhiko had rushed to her, had held her as she bled out, tears streaming down his face.

The cleric, to his credit, looked alarmed, backed away towards the entrance. He made eye contact with Fuyuhiko, who gestured with a small nod. _Run._ He did, turning tail and fleeing. Which left Fuyuhiko to his fury and the urge, the _need_ , to wreak vengeance upon the three remaining.

And he did.

He'd gently set Peko's body down before standing, hands clenched into fists. He opened his right hand, raised his arm to point it at the group. The shadows held within his ring had flowed out, coiling around his hand like vipers ready to strike. Strike they did, shooting forward like bolts of pitch black lightning before impaling the trio. He'd either been silent as the grave or screaming in rage as it happened; he couldn't remember, didn't _want_ to remember.

A gesture and measure of power, and their bodies decayed to dust in moments. Another, and he ensured Peko's body would be preserved for a while. _(Don’t let it sink in)._

He’d sunk to his knees, stared at his bloodied hands. _(Don’t let it sink in)._

Peko was dead. _(Don’t let it sink in)._

Peko was dead _and it was his fault_.

He’d closed his eyes, shaken his head, tried to keep himself from breaking down right then and there. Had to keep it together.

Fuyuhiko walked about as calmly as he could to the bathroom. He’d examined his reflection as he washed the blood from his hands and face _(if only easing guilt was that simple)._ He looked like a fucking mess, his face tearstained, clothes bloodstained.

Some part of him felt like he should still be crying, but he just... didn’t have it in him anymore. He was fucking torn up about this, yeah, but he was bone tired. Too much had happened over the course of... Fuck, how long had that whole thing taken? Probably only a few minutes, but every damned second had felt like eternity.

He went to his room, changed his clothes. Couldn’t work, couldn’t research if the gods-damned smell of blood was wrapped around him. He felt uneasy at that thought. “Research” meant scouring through the tomes he’d collected over the years (kept hidden from his parents back when he still lived with them). Putting a flickering imitation of life into a corpse and creating a mindless thrall was, in a sense, innate. Simple. Calling someone’s soul from the fucking _afterlife_ and guiding them back to their body was not simple.

 

* * *

 

The ensuing days were a blur, looking back on them. He knew what he’d done, mostly research and various preparations, but everything just blended together. He figured it had to do with the fact that he started avoiding sleeping as often as possible.

The nightmares, unfortunately, stood out in his memory. Sometimes it was just reliving those fucking minutes, watching her die again and _again_. Other times, he was the one dying from a knife to the throat. The worst one he could remember, though, was unsettling. He’d suddenly be floating in what looked like an endless expanse of blood, and then eventually tire out and drown. The best explanation Fuyuhiko had for that particular nightmare was that it was his brain’s shitty idea of a metaphor for how guilty he felt.

Regardless of whatever nightmare he suffered through, the end result was the same: waking up sweaty, crying, and occasionally sobbing. It fucking sucked. Over the course of those days, his caffeine intake skyrocketed to probably unhealthy levels, but he found it preferable to sleep. It dwindled once he figured out a way to ensure dreamless sleep, but he still worked to put off resting.

Between restless sleep and research efforts, he didn’t have much free time. He didn’t spend that time mourning-- to him, the act, even the word itself carried a sense of finality, a point of no return-- but he grieved and raged in equal measure; sudden breakdowns brought on by forgetting for a moment that she was gone and then _remembering_ , bursts of wrath taken out on the barren cave walls, anger carved into the stone by riled shadows.

Some of the books he burnt through (sometimes figurative, sometimes literal; he couldn’t abide some writings and rituals and cast the pages into the fireplace) in his research advocated the use of sacrifices in rituals. He could begrudgingly admit that there was merit to that, solely because blood _did_ have magic in it. Really, magic was ingrained in every cell of every _thing_ , and any leftover magic from spells tended to seep into the environment, able to be called upon later.

There was, however, one common factor in the rituals that were recorded to work: Calling up the god of the fucking afterlife and bargaining with them. For obvious reasons, Fuyuhiko had been hesitant to attempt that, but it seemed to be the only feasible option _(and the best way to make sure nothing_ **_else_ ** _went wrong)._ He would’ve completed it as soon as possible, but the circle had to be imbued with power while it was being drawn, and that was a finite resource. Well, finite each day; There was only so much he could draw from himself and his surroundings before running out. It was looking like today would be the day of completion, just a few quick runes--

And the sharp prick of a knife against his thumb shaking him out of his memories. Right. Blood for the summoning. Not the catalyst he wanted to use, but it seemed to be the most effective if the books were to be believed _(and it was only fair that he bled too, after everything)._

Evidently it was, power flaring out of the runes and circles, blindingly bright. He shielded his eyes, but as soon as it had started, it was finished. And there stood the Overseer.

They looked... wrong, somehow. Maybe it was their proportions, everything looking unnaturally stretched. Maybe it was their eyes, pure-white but somehow not appearing blinded. Well, yeah, it was those things and the fact that they looked like an emaciated fucking _corpse_. This was barely evident, but he could tell based on what wasn’t covered by formal attire (which, on later reflection, brought back memories of going to an open-casket funeral). They tilted their head to the side, looking down at him.

“Uh,” Fuyuhiko began, uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was staring down a fucking _god_ , why had he thought this was a good idea--

“I know why you’ve summoned me,” they said, now looking at him with sympathy. “You’ve suffered a great loss and seek to undo what’s been done.”

“I-- Yeah,” he replied.

They hummed quietly, leaning back against the conjured barrier of the circle. “That’s as much formality as I need, I think. I’ll cut to the chase: I know who you are, who your parents are, what they do, and what they’ve done.” They gestured with both arms, as if including the piles of books and notes, the marks gouged into the walls, Peko’s covered body, the tired circles under Fuyuhiko’s eyes. “And to address your possible concerns, I know you’ve made an effort to atone for their sins,” they added, having noted the growing fear he felt.

“Believe me when I say it’s only your parents I take umbrage with. They’re responsible for an unfortunately large body count. Yes, they avoid getting directly involved, but... Hm. The most apt comparison is that they load a gun, give it to someone, and tell them who to shoot. They may not be the ones pulling the trigger, but they’re still responsible. Which, coincidentally, is the case here.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Fuyuhiko interrupted, “how do you already know all this?”

“Well, the vague answer would be ‘Because I’m a god,’ but the actual answers come with a few explanations. The first is that I keep an eye on necromancers, mostly when their power flares up. Yours has done so on occasion for years, but these past few days... Well, it was hard to not take notice. As for how I know about your parents? I _am_ the god of the afterlife. I meet and judge every newcomer,” their previously neutral expression twisted to anger, “and I learn how they died, every unfortunate detail and event that led to their demise. Your parents, though at this point they barely qualify as such, have led to the deaths of many innocents. And I am not an impartial being.”

“...Okay, noted, good to know. But uh. Besides the obvious, why’re you bringing them up?”

The Overseer paused, blinking a few times before responding. “Ah. Got ahead of myself. The point here is that I’ll help you in making sure the resurrection goes well. But there’s a couple catches first.”

Fuyuhiko raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Since this is a trade of sorts, I’m... required, I suppose, to ask for something in return. For the sake of cosmic balance, from what I’ve been told.” They hummed in thought for a few moments, thinking of what to ask for. “Bear with me on this: I ask for your eye, but--”

“Alright,” he replied almost immediately, before realizing he’d interrupted, “--Fuck, sorry.”

They chuckled. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just going to mention that I’d be offering a _totally_ unrelated boon of a magic eye. Something of a reward for, well, being a better person than your parents.” As they said this, they had the kind of look on their face someone has when they’re exploiting a loophole and know that nobody can do anything about it. “Oh! And a favor to ask, optional of course, but it may interest you nonetheless.”

“I’m listening.”

“One way or another, bring your parents to justice. We both know that the people who are _supposed_ to handle this sort of thing can’t or won’t. I do feel like you were already planning on confronting them, due to recent events, but I want to point out that a trial would certainly be aided with testimony from the deceased. I can’t interfere directly, but I can definitely make that possible. Just... Consider that, alright?”

Fuyuhiko nodded. “So how’s that eye thing gonna work?”

“Oh, that’s simple. You agreed, so now I just,” The Overseer trailed off, snapping their fingers. The swap was instantaneous, fortunately. “There. Now, if that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

“Yeah, that’s everything. And, uh. Thanks for agreeing to help,” he said, giving a quick, thankful smile.

“It’s no problem,” they replied before snapping their fingers again and vanishing, leaving Fuyuhiko alone again.

 

* * *

 

 

The days after that consisted of preparation. By then, he’d done enough research to figure out what would and wouldn’t help. Now it was just a matter of drawing out a new ritual circle, getting everything just right, and hoping nothing went wrong.

And finally, everything was ready.

He nicked his thumb with a knife, drops of blood falling onto the chalk circle and imbuing it with power.

Much like before, the patterns within flared up with light before quickly dying down.

He held his breath, thoughts only a loop of _'Please work, please work, please work--’_

And Peko opened her eyes.


End file.
